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MidReal Story
The Boyish Charm of Football
Scenario:Neyverson Kentrell Saint-Fleur is a Haitian and Brazilian striker. He is nicknamed Neyko. He is a striker in the Brazilian D1 soccer team (Santos FC). He is so prolific that he possesses all styles of play, beyond his football talent. He is only 17 years old and he is overpowering and his football is perfect. His coach, Neymar Jr, is his mentor. He is 1m82, with a dry, sculpted and nephew body. He is black with an angular jaw and an intense gaze. He has mini locks. At the corner of his left eye, he has a scar. In his celebration, he shouts "Pou pèp mwen" in Creole. He has just graduated from the Santos FC academy.
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Neyverson Kentrell SaintFleur
He is a 17yearold football forward for Santos FC in Brazil. He is passionate,determined,and proud. Neyverson hails from Haiti and Brazil,blending Creole and Portuguese roots. He idolizes Neymar Jr. and finds inspiration in his idol's mentorship. Known as Neyko,he excels on the field with precision and flair. Despite his young age,he has already gained international recognition. Neyverson celebrates his graduation from the Santos FC academy with fervor,proclaiming "Pou pèp mwen" (Nothing can stop me) amidst cheers from his teammates and coaches,marking a triumphant milestone in his football journey.
Gustavo Barros
He is the coach of Santos FC's youth academy in Brazil. He is patient,motivational,and supportive. Gustavo plays a significant role in Neyverson's development as he takes him under his wing,nurturing his talents since he was 15 years old. His coaching philosophy emphasizes hard work,dedication,and fun,which aligns perfectly with Neyverson's personality. Gustavo’s guidance helps shape Neyverson into the player he is today,providing him with the structure and belief needed to achieve his goals.
Neymar Jr.
He is a professional footballer who plays as a forward for Al Nassr in the Saudi Pro League. He is charismatic,skilled,and nurturing. As Neyverson's idol,Neymar Jr. inspires him during his time at Santos FC. Despite his busy schedule,he actively mentors Neyverson,sharing his experience and wisdom with him. Neymar Jr.'s legacy influences Neyverson's approach to the game and his aspirations,fostering a deep bond between them as they exchange knowledge and personal stories,helping shape Neyverson into a dedicated footballer.
I am Neyverson Kentrell Saint-Fleur, a 17-year-old football forward for Santos FC in Brazil.
I am Haitian and Brazilian, and people call me Neyko, which means that I speak Creole and Portuguese.
I have been playing football since I was very young.
I was adopted by Coach Gustavo Barros when I was 15 years old to join Santos FC’s youth academy in Brazil.
My idol, Neymar Jr., is my coach as well.
He plays for Al Nassr in the Saudi Pro League but still coaches me.
I also have another coach who is my football agent; his name is Rodrigo Calle.
He is the one who discovered me playing football during a charity match.
He saw my skills and knew I would be a very good player, so he decided to be my agent and negotiate all my deals.
He wanted to send me to play in Europe, but I am not ready yet; I still want to play for Santos FC in Brazil first.
I want to win all the trophies possible with them before going to Europe.
When I finish playing football, I will go back to Haiti to help the young kids there who love playing football like me.
I stand at the edge of the penalty area, five balls placed in an arc.
Neymar Jr. stands behind me, his hand on my right shoulder as he adjusts my stance.
He pushes my shoulders back slightly and rotates my hips.
The training ground is quiet except for his occasional instructions in Portuguese.
I strike the first ball with the inside of my boot, watching as it curves but hits the crossbar with a resounding clang.
Neymar shakes his head.
"Not enough power," he says in Portuguese.
I watch intently as he demonstrates again, his foot connecting perfectly with the ball.
This time, it sails over the imaginary wall and into the top corner of the goal.
"Again," he instructs me, gesturing to the next ball.
I approach it, focusing on the contact point Neymar had shown me.
As I strike it, I can feel the ball spinning off my boot, bending around the imaginary wall that guards the goal.
This time, it dips under the crossbar and into the net. Neymar claps his hands and points to the next ball.
"Neyko, there's something you need to know," Neymar says, his voice suddenly serious.
I pause, looking up at him. "What is it, Coach?"
"Rodrigo's been negotiating a deal for you with a top European club; they want you there by the end of the season."
I step back from the ball, processing his words.
My hands tremble slightly as I set up another free kick.
But this time, I take my time, focusing on the goal posts.
Neymar watches silently, his eyes following my every move.
I adjust my footing, remembering his instructions from earlier.
The familiar weight of the Santos FC jersey on my back seems heavier now, a constant reminder of everything I've built here.
I strike the ball with precision, feeling it curl into the top corner of the net.
The satisfying swoosh of the net is like music to my ears.
I turn to Neymar, determination in my eyes, and say, "I'm not leaving until we win it all."
After practice, I follow Neymar to his office in the training complex.
He pulls out his phone and shows me a string of messages from Rodrigo.
My heart races as I see the logo of the French club AS Monaco.
Neymar explains that they've been scouting me for months, impressed by my performance in recent matches.
I sit down in a chair, remembering the Monaco games I watched as a kid.
The club's rich history of developing young talents like Mbappé floods my mind.
When Neymar mentions their substantial offer, I grip the armrest tighter, still uncertain about leaving Santos.
Neymar leans forward, his eyes earnest. "Neyko, this is a chance to follow in the footsteps of the greats."
"But what about my promise to Santos?" I ask, my voice tinged with conflict.
He nods, understanding. "Promises are important, but so is your future; sometimes they align in unexpected ways."
I lean back in my chair, staring at the details of the contract on Neymar's computer screen.
He scrolls down, revealing architectural plans for a state-of-the-art training facility: multiple fields, a medical center, and a youth academy building.
My throat tightens as I realize the proposed location is near my old neighborhood.
Neymar explains that Monaco's offer would not only transform Santos FC's infrastructure but also give future players opportunities I never had.
I stand up and walk to the window, looking out at the young academy players training on the worn practice field.
A boy attempts a free kick, stumbling on the uneven ground.
I turn back to Neymar, resolve firming in my chest, and say, "Let's make this happen."
I sit at my locker, methodically packing my training gear into my bag.
Neymar's voice carries through the open door of his office, where he's on a call with Rodrigo.
Through the crack, I can hear him confirming the date for the meeting with Monaco's representatives.
My teammates filter out of the locker room, some patting my shoulder in a silent gesture of support.
I pull out my phone and search for images of Monaco's stadium, Stade Louis II.
The first result shows the stadium set against the breathtaking backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea.
But I quickly close that tab and open another, searching for videos of Santos FC's youth academy.
As I scroll through, a familiar face catches my eye: Neymar himself, back when he was a young player like me.
I click on the video and watch as he weaves through defenders with incredible speed and skill.
The video ends abruptly, and I look up to find Coach Gustavo standing in front of me.
He must have just walked in.
"Watching old footage?" he asks, taking a seat next to me on the bench. I nod, still staring at my phone screen.
Coach Gustavo leans back against the locker room wall, his eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and pride.
"I remember when Neymar left for Barcelona," he says softly.
"It was a bittersweet moment for all of us here at Santos. We were sad to see him go, but we knew it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up."
He pauses, studying me intently.
"And now, it's your turn. You have a chance to follow in his footsteps and make a name for yourself in Europe."
I close my phone and start lacing up my cleats for afternoon practice.
"Did you know that there are other Santos graduates playing in Europe right now?"
Coach Gustavo continues, his voice filled with enthusiasm.
"Players like Robinho and Ganso. They've all made their mark on the world stage."
I nod, feeling the weight of their legacy and the promise of my own path ahead.
I stand in front of the Santos FC trophy cabinet, pressing my hand against the cool glass.
Photos of legendary players like Pelé and Neymar stare back at me, their achievements etched into history.
My reflection overlaps with theirs, and I count the empty spaces where new trophies could sit.
Coach Gustavo approaches, clipboard in hand, and shows me our remaining fixtures for the season - twenty-eight matches that could define my legacy.
I pull out my phone, opening my notes app, and start listing specific goals: thirty goals, fifteen assists, and three trophies.
I sit in my apartment, watching the footage of our last match against Flamengo on my TV screen.
I scored a hat-trick, and now I'm reviewing every move, every pass.
On the wall behind the TV, my whiteboard displays my original goals, crossed out with red markers.
The numbers keep climbing: seventy goals, fifty assists, five trophies.
My phone buzzes with texts from Rodrigo - more stats comparing me to Pelé's records.
On the screen, I see myself executing the free-kick technique Neymar taught me.
The ball curls perfectly into the top corner.
I stand up, grab my boots, and head to the training ground.
As I walk onto the field, Neymar jogs over, a wide grin on his face.
"You're making it look easy out there," he says, clapping me on the back.
I chuckle, shaking my head. "It's all thanks to your free-kick lessons; I owe you one."
I sit in the locker room, massaging my sore muscles after a grueling morning practice.
Coach Gustavo walks in, holding a clipboard and looking serious.
The room falls silent as he scans the faces of my teammates.
Then, a wide smile spreads across his face.
"We did it," he announces.
"We qualified for the international tournament."
The room erupts in cheers as my teammates jump and hug each other.
Rodrigo stands in the doorway, catching my eye and nodding meaningfully - this tournament could be my showcase before Monaco.